


Reputation

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hogwarts, M/M, Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: “It was just sex.  She was willing.  I was bored.”Severus is a young teacher who has an active sex life - both inside the castle, and out.  Minerva is not quite so impressed with his behaviour.





	Reputation

**Author's Note:**

> I made a headcanon post about Severus, and claimed that whilst he was able to hold his drink, he was often caught out by the potency of the punch at Hogwarts' Christmas Party - and that he'd also slept with four members of staff.
> 
> Several people asked who the four members of staff were. This fic is his tell-all. Also, it turns out that Severus may - or may not - be able to count. Blame the punch.

“You do realise,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “that this makes you a voyeur.”

She laughed.  “I am no such thing, Severus!”

“…on the contrary, madam, that is very definition-”

“Oh, what rot!  It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“It’s just you’re the only person I’ve ever met socially who…”

He arched an eyebrow.  “…yes?”

“…was one of his.”

“Ah.”  He covered his smile by lifting his glass to his lips, and taking a steady sip of his firewhisky.  “I am sure I am not.  I assure you that there were a great many of us.  Many of whom have since gone undetected.  …it is what made the Dark Lord so dangerous, after all.”

“Undetected...  The others don’t know about you, do they?”  Her eyes flashed with the promise of a shared secret, and he smiled at her eagerness.

“The Headmaster, most certainly.  The rest of the staff?”  He waved his hand.  “Some are more observant than others.  Some are more suspicious than others.”  He raised his glass.  “But you, of course, were there.  In the Ministry.  They may suspect, but you?  You _know_.”

Now she was leaning keenly forward, hanging on his every word.  Doing so caused her robes to shift, and he couldn’t help but register the rather enticing curve of her chest.  He’d been at Hogwarts for three years – three, long, lonely years – and he couldn’t deny that the expensive alcohol she’d generously shared with him was coursing through his veins.  He watched her expression closely, still a little surprised that their meeting had taken this rather unexpected turn.

A few hours earlier, after finishing his evening meal in the Great Hall, he’d traipsed up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office.  His feet had dragged on the stairs as if he was still an errant student who had been summoned for detention.  He was dreading being on the end of yet another passionate tirade from a so-called esteemed colleague, the expectation falling upon him to explain the antics of his house.  After three years of excusing their behaviour, he was rather bored of defending his crop of seventh year miscreants to the other teachers.

He wouldn’t have admitted as much.  He generally perceived Slytherin as being the underdog, unfairly maligned and ignored within Hogwarts, and he relished championing his house’s cause – but his eldest students simply didn’t warrant his efforts.  Frankly, he often agreed with the other teachers when it came to their complaints.  It was partly his fault, he knew - they had been first years whilst he’d been a student himself and they’d been extremely resistant to their change in housemaster.  They were ambitious, and many had coveted their place in Slughorn’s exalted Slug Club.  They were quick to realise that Severus Snape was in no position to give them the network they required to soar in the wider wizarding world, so they saw no benefit to liking or even respecting him. 

It had been a difficult few years, but Severus had been pleased to note that the mood in Slytherin had improved as each of the older years graduated, and new first years – with no experience of Slughorn’s tenure – were much more amenable to their young housemaster.  With his seventh years not far from graduation, it felt as if the end was finally in sight, and he couldn’t wait to be rid of them and their unruly influence on the rest of his Slytherins.  Not that he’d let on as such to the other teachers.  Well, perhaps Minerva.  When she got him very drunk.

He’d opened the Defence Against the Dark Arts office door with leaden fingers, anticipating a serious and staid meeting which would cut into his less than ample leisure time, but unexpectedly, the conversation had rather deviated from its original course – and into far more welcome territory.

Eugenia peered at him curiously.  “Given your unrepentant attitude, and your willingness to admit to being one of his, I am surprised the Ministry acquitted you.”

“They didn’t,” he said, sharply and he took a perverse pleasure in seeing her eyes widen as he thumped his empty glass onto the side table.  “Ah yes.  …perhaps some caution should be in order.  After all, I am a bona fide convict.”

“Then why are you here and not in Azkaban with the rest of the convicted Death Eaters?”

There was that look again.  He fixed his gaze on her own, daring her to back down, but she merely smiled coquettishly.  This wasn’t a game he was used to playing under Albus’ roof, but after years spent in the shadow of the Black sisters, he was extremely familiar with the rules.

He stood, and placed his hand on the back of her chair.  “Because,” he whispered silkily, “I did a deal.  My sentence was suspended.”  His hand trailed through her dark ringlets, and he gave a small laugh.  “For good behaviour.”

“For good behaviour?”

“Mmm.”  He paused as his fingers met the soft skin at the back of her neck.  “So why don’t you ask your question again, if you really want to know the answer?”

There was a long pause.

“No?”  His voice carried a tinge of amusement, as he trailed his free hand down her arm, and slowly removed her glass from her fingers and set it aside.  “Are you no longer curious?”

“…I’m curious,” she whispered, watching as he trailed his fingers slowly back up her arm, and rested both hands on her shoulders, gently pressing his fingertips into her skin and working the muscles beneath.

He lowered his lips to her ear.  “It is interesting to me that you feel this way.  I did not take you for a Death Eater groupie.  A woman of your standing.”

Her breath hitched.  “…I’m not.”

“No?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Just…curious.”  He stilled, and then moved from behind the chair.  He held his hand out.  “Come then, and I shall show you how the Death Eaters treated their women.”

He could see her chest lifting and sinking rapidly as she considered his words.  “…I only asked.”

“And since when have teachers advocated verbal description when we could instead offer practical demonstration?”  He gave a wicked grin, and with a practised flick of his fingers, he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt.  “Come,” he repeated, holding his hand back out towards her.  “I assure you that you will not regret it.”

* * *

He rolled over, and grabbed his cigarettes from the bedside table, placing one between his lips.

“You’re not going to smoke one of those in here are you?”

“No, I’m going to fry it for breakfast,” he said, lighting it with a flick of his fingers.

“Severus!”

“What?”  He plumped his pillow and rested back on it contentedly, taking a deep drag before offering the cigarette to her.

“I don’t smoke.”  She eyed him curiously.  “A big bad Death Eater like you smoking Muggle cigarettes?”

He pulled her towards him, nestling his right arm around her as she settled against his chest.  “Mmm, I thought you’d have had enough of the big bad Death Eater schtick by now.”

“I don’t know,” she smirked, sliding her hand beneath the covers and down his body.  “There’s still a few hours before dawn…”

* * *

“I cannot believe you slept with Eugenia,” Minerva harrumphed as Filius cleared the cards from the table and rapidly shuffled them.

“I cannot believe that it’s such a problem for you, Minerva,” Severus shot back, crossing his arms.  “I am allowed to have sex.  Unlike some of us, I am not so old that my-”

“-don’t finish that sentence, Severus,” Pomona said, settling back into her chair and passing around the biscuit tin as Filius dealt a fresh hand of cards to each player.  “You will only dig yourself in deeper.”

Severus scowled as he picked his set of cards up.  “I did not realise that my love life would be so fascinating to the rest of you.”

“Hardly love,” Minerva muttered, picking her own hand up and rifling through.  “A one night encounter.  A wham, bam-”

“What’s your problem?” Severus slat his cards back onto the table, sending them skidding across the surface.  “Can’t a bloke have a shag without being interrogated?”

“It was Eugenia Jenkins!”  Minerva stood, her fury apparent on her face.  “You slept with Eugenia Jenkins!”

“Yes, I did notice.  I was there.”

“Oh honestly, Severus!”

He barely registered Filius and Pomona’s quick exit, leaving the two remaining Heads of Houses to their argument.  He was focused on Minerva, her rage causing her cheeks to redden.

“What _is_ your problem?” he mused softly, his dark eyes boring intently into her own.  “Jealous?”

“Hardly!”

“Then why are you so concerned about my intimate relationships?”

“The woman is a menace, Severus.  She has a…”

“Yes?”

“…a _thing_.”

“I assure you she most certainly does not.”

Minerva laughed in spite of herself.  “I am still furious with you,” she warned.  “I thought you had more sense than to sleep with her.”

He leant back in his chair.  “It was just sex.  She was willing.  I was bored.”

“Lofty criteria.”

He huffed a soft laugh.  “Don’t tell me you’re a closet romantic, Min?  A bloke’s got to seduce you before he can have his wicked way, does he?”

“She’s a collector.  A tourist.  She only slept with you because you used to be…one of them.”

“I said as much to her face.”

Minerva looked scandalised.  “And you still slept with her?”

He shrugged.  “Come now, Minerva.  What’s a little roleplay between friends?”

* * *

She cast, and light flooded the bedroom.  Severus groaned, and ducked his head under his covers.  “Min…  Why do you treat me so?”

“I knew you wouldn’t be up for breakfast unless I came and dragged you out of your hovel.  Come on!  You don’t want Albus querying your whereabouts, do you?”  She glanced around at the state of the room as he poked his head out from under the covers and glared at her.  “Severus, don’t you let the house elves tidy up in here?”

“I don’t let the house elves in here full stop,” he grumbled, reluctantly throwing the covers off and picking up some socks off the floor.  “In fact, I don’t let most people in here.”

“No?  I’ve heard you let in a few.”

“Min, I’m really not in the mood for a lecture.”

Minerva smiled.  “…headache?”

“Just a bit,” he muttered, gratefully accepting the potion she was holding out.  “From Pomfrey?”

“From your bathroom,” she said, perching on the edge of his bed.  “The cupboard opened for me,” she hastily added when she saw his dark look.

“It’s supposed to be charmed only to open to me.”

“It clearly recognised that I intended you no harm,” she said, banishing the now empty bottle as Severus lay back on the bed.  “…I thought we discussed your destructive behaviour last year.”

Severus pointedly ignored her.

“And yet here we are again.”

“Just because you don’t approve of who I sleep with, it doesn’t mean it’s destructive behaviour.”

Minerva sighed.  “It’s not just the sex – it’s the alcohol, it’s the cigarettes, it’s the-”

“It was a party!”

“A party doesn’t mean that you have to get blind drunk.”

Severus threw his forearm over his eyes.  “In fairness, I didn’t intend to get blind drunk,” he ground out, menacingly.  “Hagrid spiked the punch.  Again.”

“Nobody forced you to drink it.”

“It was a party!”

“Last Christmas party you slept with Argus-”

“I thought you weren’t going to lecture me,” he groaned.  “You said all of this last year.”

“And this year you’ve slept with Rolanda!”

“So go and lecture Hagrid!  He’s the one who keeps spiking the punch!”

“You’re the one who keeps dropping your trousers!”

Severus groaned even more loudly.  “Min, we both know I’ve been shagging Filch for longer than is decent for either of us to mention-”

“Severus!”

He sat up and stared at the older teacher.  “…you did know that, right?”  He gave a deep laugh.  “Bloody hell, you didn’t know.  And I thought you had tabs on my sexual history.”

“How long?”

He averted his gaze.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“I rather think it does.”

“He isn’t a teacher, Min.”

“Teacher or not, he still would have been in a position of power over you.”

“…I wasn’t a student.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.  “That’s something, at least.”  She gave the young man a puzzled look.  “Why Argus?”

“Why not?”

“Severus, be serious.  I can at least understand Rolanda, but Argus?”

“Maybe I like a bit of rough,” he muttered.  “Who knows, Min?  I don’t think about it that deeply.  I just…”  He trailed off.  “It’s not that big a deal.  It’s just sex.”

“And will Rolanda be a recurring thing, like Argus?”

“You know her better than me.”  He ran his hands through his greasy hair.  “She was as drunk as I was, and I was the nearest eligible male.  It’s not some great love affair.”  He eyed her curiously.  “Why are you so invested in my relationships, Min?”

“Hardly relationships.”

He held her gaze.  “You know what I mean.”

“…just make an effort to restrain yourself in future,” she warned.  “You’re getting quite the reputation amongst the staff.”

“Min!  We’re all adults.  There’s not as if there’s an abundance of things to do in this castle when the little horrors are in their dormitories for the night.  What’s a bit of casual sex between friends and colleagues, eh?”

“I’ll leave you to sober up,” she said, coldly, standing and striding across the room.

“You want to try it,” he muttered to himself.  “It might put you in a better mood.”

* * *

“I’ll warn you now, I’m not staying sat next to you if I have to listen to you lecture me about Lucius Malfoy.”

“In the castle, Severus!”

“There we go,” he said, making a show of checking his watch.  “That was a record, Minerva – two and a half seconds.”

“I just do not think it’s appropriate behaviour.  He’s a married man!”

“How do you even know what we were doing?  For all you know, we were playing cards and drinking all night.”

“It’s your smile,” Filius chipped in, earning himself Severus’ most annoyed glare.

“It’s true,” Pomona agreed.  “You have this air about you the following day.”

“My smile?  An air?” he said, picking up the newspaper and flicking through it.  “I’m starting to feel like an exhibit in the zoo.”

Minerva huffed.  “You mate about as often.”

“Not usually with a paying audience,” he shot back. 

“Really, Severus!”  Minerva made a show of snatching the Prophet from his fingers.  “And how must poor Narcissa feel?”

“Poor Narcissa,” Severus scoffed.  “Oh yes, poor Narcissa.”  He leant close to Minerva, his breath hot against her ear.  “I seem to recall that last night poor Narcissa begged the two of us for more.”  His eyes flashed with amusement as he saw Minerva’s mouth open in shock.  “Oh yes, it wasn’t just Mr Malfoy who dropped in on me last night.”

He stood, and addressed the staffroom.  “In fact, I think I shall pay my very good friends a visit.  It’s only good manners, seeing as they were so kind to call on me.  I should really return the favour.”  He gave a half bow towards Minerva.  “I shall, of course, warn them that their visits here are under some unwarranted scrutiny…”

* * *

As always, it had started with Hagrid’s Christmas punch.  He thought that after more than a decade, he’d have had the sense to avoid it, but each year Hagrid’s promises filled the air, reckoning that this time he’d only put a spot in.

A spot.

But that was the difficulty with half giants; their spot was a rather different measure than that of an average man.

Not that Severus was complaining.  Of all the men and women who had tumbled into his bed over the years, Charity Burbage had to be one of the most pleasing.  She was clever, and powerful, and feisty – and she craved his mind outside of the bedroom almost as much as she craved his body inside of it.

He loved it.  He wouldn’t go as far to say that he loved her; love during war was a fool’s errand – he only had to look at Narcissa and Lucius’ increasingly desperate plight to know that.  But he felt an affection for her that was only surpassed by the companionship of his oldest friends.  He hadn’t quite been able to give them up.

Not that it mattered.  She never asked him to.  She left him be.  Of all the merry hell the year had unleashed; with his Dark Mark forming, the Dark Lord reappearing and Cedric dying…well, Charity Burbage was a bright spot which, as the months wore on, burned all the more brightly.

* * *

“And tell me, what exactly does your Dark Lord think of you cavorting with the Muggle Studies teacher?”

“Ah, Minerva.  Please, do come in.”

“You missed breakfast.”

“I meant to.”

She stayed in the doorway to his bedroom, her arms folded.  “You’re setting a terrible impression for your house.”

“Yes, my house full of teenage wannabe Death Eaters.  I am certain that the most disruptive force in their lives is their Head of House who decides he’d like to have a lie in at the weekend.”

“Their Death Eater Head of House.”

“Touché.”  He ran his hand through his lank hair, and she shook her head at the sight of his bloodshot eyes.

“It simply isn’t good enough, Severus.  I shouldn’t have to come down here and remind you of the standards expected-”

“Have you seen Albus?”

Minerva halted her tirade, suddenly unsure.

“I rather thought he might have said something,” Severus drawled, flicking the duvet down, and revealing his bruised and bloodied chest.

“Severus!”  She moved towards the bed, but he snatched the duvet back, hastily covering himself after making his point.

“As you can see, I was otherwise engaged last night,” he said.  “I arranged with Albus that I would, on this occasion, skip breakfast.  I apologise that he did not pass the message on.”

“Severus, you look terrible.  You need to see Poppy.”

“I do not.  I have already healed the wounds, and with a little more rest, they’ll knit properly.  I require more sleep, a shower, and some clean robes.  When I appear at dinner, nobody will be any the wiser.”  He gave her a hard look.  “This is no time for your Gryffindor meddling.”

“Does Charity know you’ve been hurt?”

He frowned.  “We’re not…  We’re not like that.”

“No?”  She gave him a searching look.  “She spends enough time down here.”

“In my lair?”  He laughed, and then groaned as he held his chest.  “Don’t make me laugh.”

“You made yourself laugh, you impossible man.”

He closed his eyes.  “The Dark Lord does not know of my…interactions with Charity.  Or, indeed, my interactions with any of the staff here.”  He opened his eyes, and stared at Minerva.  “It is rather safer that he believe me to be entirely isolated, and without companionship.”

“And he buys that you’re celibate, does he?  I rather thought your reputation would’ve followed you.”

Severus scoffed, and then clutched his chest again.  “No, he doesn’t believe I am celibate.  But he assumes that I merely cavort with the pureblooded women who make up his entourage.  Worthy women, you understand.”

She winced at his words.

“It is far safer all round,” he finished.

“So he does not know about Charity?”

“For both our sakes, I pray not.”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Severus.  I had no idea.”  She hesitated by the door.  “Given your state, I rather thought that your charms would’ve kept interlopers out.”

“They will.”

“…then am I not an interloper?”

He didn’t respond, and the door quietly clicked shut as she exited.

* * *

She told herself that she wasn’t going to drink the punch.  Not this year.  It wasn’t safe.  But neither he nor his comrades were in attendance – all, she assumed, had been called by their so-called Dark Lord to join his festivities instead.

The castle was cold and empty, save for the staff.  All of the students had chosen the comforts of home over the Death Eater regime that presided over their once proud school.  Pomona and Filius, whether sensibly or not, had insisted that the Christmas party should go ahead, and Hagrid had laced their festive drink with his usual heavy handed measures.  She thought she may have even seen him tip a little extra in.  For luck.

It was luck she needed now, she thought, as she stood outside the Headmaster’s office.  The others had long since retired to bed, whilst she had nursed the remainder of the sickly sweet alcohol.  She swayed a little, and then clenched her wand a little tighter as she forced the hated password out through her teeth.  “Dumbledore.”

Stone ground heavily against stone, and the staircase appeared.  She started up the steps, her heart fluttering in her chest, fearing that he had slunk back to the castle unnoticed and she would find him smugly leaning back in his seat with his feet perched on his - _Albus’_ \- desk.  Filius and Pomona insisted that he didn’t sit like that in their meetings, so she could only assume that he did it to provoke her. 

She cautiously entered the office, and discovered her fear was for naught.  The room was empty, apart from the usual array of slumbering portraits.  She glanced along the wall, but Albus was missing. 

“Where is he?”

Silence.

“Where is he?” she demanded, brandishing her wand and threatening each of the portraits in turn.  “I command you to awaken at once!  Where is he?  As Deputy Headmistress, I command you!  Awaken!”

It was Headmaster Black who finally opened his eyes.  “Headmaster Snape is asleep, madam.  As were the rest of us until you started your unnecessary caterwauling.”

“Not _Snape_ ,” she spat.  “Albus.  His portrait.”  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the painted figure.  “Where is he?”

“Headmaster Snape is in his quarters,” Headmaster Black repeated, a faint sneer adorning his features.  “These are his walls, so I rather think you should direct your question towards him.”

With that, his painted eyes snapped shut.  Minerva glanced around the room, but the rest of the portraits were asleep – or, at least, feigning slumber.  So, Snape was in residence after all.  She shuffled her wand between her hands, and then, fuelled in equal measure by alcohol and anger, she silently moved towards the door at the back of the office – the door which she knew led to the Headmaster’s Quarters.

She felt the familiar tremor of Snape’s magic as she gripped the handle, and although her reactions were dulled through the evening’s intake of alcohol, she was somewhat surprised not to have been burned, or otherwise cursed.  It bolstered her resolve, and against her better judgement, she twisted the handle and pushed forward.

There, to her surprise, was Albus Dumbledore.

In painted form, obviously, but unmistakeably there.  He was propped up against the wall, his figure pacing backwards and forwards within the confines of his frame with obvious unease.  “I appreciate your concern, Severus, of course I do.  But we have greater considerations…”

“Greater considerations?”  Severus’ voice was an octave higher than his usual deep baritone.  “The Dark Lord is growing increasingly paranoid, and the Carrows are undermining my authority.”

“I appreci-”

“Don’t tell me you appreciate my concern!” Severus shouted, causing Albus to still in his frame.  “If the Carrows continue to spread tales of my inadequacy to the Dark Lord, we run the very real risk of me being replaced.”

“Legitimacy is important to him.  I believe he would follow due process, and oust you at the end of the year.”

“Whereas I believe he intends to follow the previous path of succession.”

Albus looked at Severus seriously.  “You believe your life is in danger?”

“It has been made clear to me that the Dark Lord put me in position because he believed that I would be able to control the teachers.  As you suggest, it is the veneer of legitimacy that appeals to him-”

“-and the mass sacking of the staff-”

“-mass _slaughter_ of the staff,” Severus corrected.

“-would not play well with the wizarding public at large.”  Albus peered at Severus over his painted glasses.  “Indeed.  But if Hogwarts becomes too unruly, then the death of the incumbent would perhaps permit a clean sweep?”

“…I suspect that is his thinking.” 

“Then you must be harsher over the coming weeks.”

Severus looked pained. 

“Distasteful as it may be, I do not have to remind you of the importance of having Hogwarts ruled by a pretend Death Eater, as opposed to one of his loyal servants.” 

At that moment, Albus glanced upwards and Severus quickly spun around to see what had caught his eye.  Before Minerva could react, Severus roughly pulled her into his room, his fingers gripping her upper arm tightly as he cast rapidly at Albus, banishing the painting, and slamming the door in its wake.

“Severus…”

His face was filled with unbridled fury as he cast charm after charm against the door.  “How did you get in here?”

“I opened the door.”

“I opened the door,” he sneered, ceasing his casting.  “Then what use are these charms?”

“I thought we established a long while ago that I was impervious to your charms.”

There was a long silence, and eventually he relinquished his hold on Minerva.  She resisted the urge to reach up and rub the pain from where his fingers had gripped her so tightly.  “We both know that isn’t true.”

“No?”

He eyed her curiously.  “You were never impervious.  You merely wished me no harm.”  He gave a soft laugh.  “After all I have done these past few months, and yet tonight, you still did not wish to harm me.”

She bristled.  “Where are the Carrows?”

“Otherwise engaged.”

“Then it is safe to talk?”

“It is never safe to talk,” he scowled, “as you yourself have proven tonight.”

“You should’ve told me.”

He sniffed and sat down on the edge of the bed.  “And you would’ve been complicit with Albus’ plan, would you?  You would’ve happily nodded whilst the Carrows inflicted punishment on the first years?  You would’ve been keen to allay the fears of our fellow staff members?  Tell them that there was no cause for alarm, and you readily agreed with my ideas for the school?”

“I could’ve-”

“Could’ve what, Min?  Could’ve what?”  His words were fierce, but he looked exhausted.  Gaining no response, he summoned a half empty bottle of firewhisky into his outstretched palm.  He took a hefty swig before rubbing his sleeve over the open mouth of the bottle and passing it to her.

“You could’ve scourgified it.”

“I could’ve.”  He gave a wicked grin.  “I doubt either of us are going to live so long that a few germs from shared spittle are going to wreak havoc with our health.”  He paused.  “Don’t tell Poppy.”

She huffed a laugh, and swigged heartily from the bottle.  “Do you truly believe he will murder you?”

“You soon discover, in the Dark Lord’s service, that anything is possible.”  He took the bottle back from her and drunk steadily from it.

“Severus, don’t…”

“It’s only fair that I catch you up,” he said, giving her a knowing smile.  “Hagrid’s punch?”

She nodded. 

“I knew you wouldn’t have tried your luck in my quarters if you had been sober.”  He paused, and swigged again.  “More’s the pity.”

She scoffed.

“I’m serious,” he said, passing the bottle back to her.

“You haven’t had enough of the staff warming your bed over the years?”

He looked at her evenly.  “Perhaps not the one I wanted.”

“Oh Severus, honestly!”  They sat in silence, neither willing to speak.  Eventually, Minerva found her voice again.  “Severus, be sensible.  Not half an hour ago, I thought you loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“Did you?”  His enquiry was mild, but there was a hint of a smirk across his face.  She swallowed tightly – how she had missed his astute humour, his quirky companionship.  “Did you _really_ , Min?”

She stared impassively back at him.

“Because you clearly intended me no harm when you opened my door,” he pressed, shifting more closely to her side.  “So what were your intentions tonight?”

“…not this.”

“No?”  He bit his lip, trying not to let a smile spread over his face.  “No, I suppose not.”  He silently took the bottle from her hands and placed it on the floor by their feet.

“I came to see Albus,” she suddenly admitted, the words tumbling out.  “I thought with you out of the castle, I could gain some guidance.  Some answers!”

“And now you have them.”

“…tonight’s discovery has not been unwelcome.”

He stared at her intently, and she remembered the complaints of her students.  _It’s like he’s reading your mind._   Under his direct scrutiny, she felt herself concurring – and then, he slowly leant forwards and his lips touched her own.

* * *

“So what happens now?”

“I was rather hoping for some sleep,” he said, drolly.  He smiled as she prodded him playfully, and he grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips.  “The students are away.  The Carrows are out of the castle.  The staff will be nursing a hangover.”  He shrugged.  “Send Filius an owl.  A patronus.  Anything.  Tell him you’re under the weather, so you need to rest in your rooms.” 

“To what end?”

“…spend the next day or so with me.  Here.  Nobody would know.”

She looked surprised.  “I thought you were the type for a quick tumble.”

“I have made peace with my fate,” he said, gruffly.  He rolled away from her, and she snaked her arm around his stomach, pulling him back.  “I did so many years ago.”

“It is hardly a foregone-”

He turned back over to look at her.  “Could you imagine the trial?  After all I have done this year?  After all I have done in my time here?”  The shake of his head was barely perceptible.  “I have long been a condemned man, Min.  Why do you think I took my pleasure whenever I could find it?”

A sudden horrible thought flitted through her mind.  “Please tell me you haven’t slept with the Carrows.”

He actually laughed.  A rich, hearty laugh that she hadn’t heard for nearly a year.  “Frankly, I’d prefer death.”  He gave her a tight smile.  “Lucius and Narcissa still,” he admitted, softly, “although the Dark Lord rather has them under lock and key.  I prefer…  I prefer not to visit the Manor unless it is demanded of me.”

“Anyone here?”

“Filch.”  His lips quirked again.  “Always Filch.”

“I do not think I will ever understand you, Severus.”

“You only need to understand that if I’d had a proper shot at this-”

“Severus-”

“I would’ve...”  He ran his hands over his face.  “Albus be damned, I should’ve done this sooner.  I should’ve taught you Occlumency, and not wasted my time with Potter.”

“I know the basic-”

“The Dark Lord,” Severus interrupted, “is the greatest Legilimens the wizarding world has ever seen.  The basics will not suffice.”  He moved back over her and kissed her, pleased when she responded with enthusiasm.  “Forget it for now.  Forget them all.”

* * *

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Ah, Minerva,” Filius said, his voice low.  “How are you feeling?”

“Rough, I should imagine,” Pomona added, clutching her hand.

“Filius.  Pomona.”  Minerva groaned.  “How long have I been asleep?”

“The staff party was four days ago.”

“I’ve had a stern word with Hagrid.  He realises that he overdid the punch.”  Filius stood, and paced the room.  “Thankfully the Headmaster and his followers have stayed away this week.”

“But the students are back on Monday,” Pomona said.  “So best we get you back on your feet before then.”

“Four days?” Minerva said, frowning.  “I’ve never had a four day hangover.”

“You don’t remember anything?” Pomona pressed.  “You sent Filius a message the morning after.”

“Said you were resting and wanted to be alone,” he said.  “But last night Poppy saw a note from you, requesting some replenishing potions.”  He indicated towards the discarded bottles by the side of her bed.  “So we came down.”

“No foul play?”  The question almost brought bile to her throat.

“They’re not here,” Pomona said, gently.  “The Headmaster hasn’t been seen for over a week, the Carrows for just as long.”

* * *

“Good evening.”

She didn’t reply.

“I said,” he intoned, evenly, “good evening.  It is common courtesy in this castle to pay respect to one’s friends and colleagues.”

“Friends?”  Her tone was cold.  “Colleagues, perhaps.”

“Then perhaps I should say, one’s superiors.”  He gave a nasty smile.  “I am, am I not, your superior?”

She sat in silence, willing him to focus his attentions elsewhere, but he persisted in watching her every movement.  “Am I not?”

“Yes, Headmaster.”

“Yes Headmaster?”

“Yes, Headmaster, you are my superior,” she ground out, her cheeks flushed.

“Very good.  Now, the potatoes?”

She silently passed the silver dish to him, but he refused to take it.  She gave him a confused look, and he merely raised an eyebrow in response.  It took all of her effort not to roll her eyes.  “You expect me to serve you?”

A faint smile played across his lips.  “I believe we just this moment ago established that I am your superior?”

She glanced across the Great Hall, where her students were pretending not to see the scene unfolding before them.  The Slytherins were altogether less subtle.  A red hot surge of rage built in her chest, as she scooped food onto his plate.

“Excellent.”  His nasty smile widened.  “Perhaps there is still space for you in the Dark Lord’s new regime.  I believe the house elf population has been dwindling of late.”

The laughter of the Carrows echoed across the Great Hall, as she thumped the dish onto the table. 

“Do not forget your place, Minerva,” he warned, his forefinger and thumb gripping her wrist in a tight circle.

She forced herself to ignore him and focused her attentions on the cutlery which lay before her.

"You may commence," he hissed, letting go of her, and raising his goblet to the room.

The students dug in heartily.  Minerva anxiously rubbed her wrist before picking up her fork.  There was something in Snape's touch that had raised an uncanny feeling from deep within her, but as quickly as it had risen, it washed over her, and the emotion dissolved.


End file.
